Lyrd of the Ryngs - Return of Good Architecture

[Grey_Wolf]

As before he found his hearing sharpened but his eyesight begloomed as if he was in another world. The rocky walls of the path were pale, as if seen through a mist.

At distance he could hear the miserable bubbling of the wounded Genmonster She-Lob.

And closeby indeed he could hear sharp cries and the stutter of machine-guns and sharp blasts of Smith and Westons.

He sprang to his feet, and pressed himself against the wall beside the road.

He was glad of the Package. For here was yet another company of orcs on the march. Or so at first he thought. Then suddenly he realized that it was not so, his hearing had deceived him: the orc-cries came from the Tower Complex, whose topmost building was now right above him, on the left hand of the Cleft.

[Grey_Wolf]

Sam shuddered and tried to force himself to move. There was plainly some devilry going on. Perhaps in spite of all orders the cruelty of the orcs had mastered them, and they were tormenting Frodo, or even savagely hacking him to pieces. He listened; and as he did a gleam of hope came to him. There could not be much doubt: there was fighting in the tower, the orcs must be at war among themselves, while conflicting Nazareth, Black Sabbath and Kiss tunes blasted out windows and contributed to the mayhem, Shagrat and Gorbag had come to blows. Faint as was the hope that his guess brought him, it was enough to rouse him. There might be just a chance. His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: "I'm coming, Mr. Frodo!"

He ran forward to the climbing road, and over it. At once the road turned left and plunged steeply down. Sam had crossed into Mordor.

He repackaged the Package, moved it may be by some deep premonition of danger, though to himself he thought only that he wished to see more clearly. "Better have a look at the worst," he muttered. "No good blundering about in a fog!"

[Grey_Wolf]

Hard and cruel and bitter was the land that met his gaze. Before his feet the highest ridge of the Ephel Dúath fell steeply in great cliffs down into a dark trough, on the further side of which there rose another ridge, much lower, its edge notched and jagged with crags like fangs that stood out black against the red light behind them: it was the grim Morgai, the inner ring of the fences of the land. Far beyond it, but almost straight ahead, across a wide lake of darkness dotted with tiny fires, there was a great burning glow; and from it rose in huge columns a swirling smoke, dusty red at the roots, black above where it merged into the billowing canopy that roofed in all the accursed land.

Sam was looking at Orodruin, the Mountain of Fire. Ever and anon the furnaces far below its ashen cone would grow hot and with a great surging and throbbing pour forth rivers of molten rock from chasms in its sides. Some would flow blazing towards Barad-dûr down great channels; some would wind their way into the stony plain, until they cooled and lay like twisted dragon-shapes vomited from the tormented earth. In such an hour of labour Sam beheld Mount Doom, and the light of it, cut off by the high screen of the Ephel Dúath from those who climbed up the path from the West, now glared against the stark rock faces, so that they seemed to be drenched with blood.

[Grey_Wolf]

In that dreadful light Sam stood aghast, for now, looking to his left, he could see the Cirith Ungol Tower Condominium Complex in all it dreadfulness. The spire that he had seen from the other side was only its topmost, penthouse turret.

Its eastern face stood up in three great balconies from a shelf in the mountain-wall far below; its back was to a great cliff behind, from which it jutted out in panorama windows, one above the other, diminishing as they rose, with sheer sides of glassed, cunning masonry that looked north-east and south-east.

About the lowest balcony, two hundred feet below where Sam now stood, there was a concrete and plasticcovered wall enclosing a narrow court.

Its door, upon the near south-eastern side, opened on a broad drive/road, the outer parapet of which ran upon the brink of a precipice, until it turned southward and went winding down into the darkness to join the freeway that came over the Morgul Pass.

[Grey_Wolf]

Then on it went, through a jagged rift in the Morgai out into the valley of Gorgoroth and away to Barad-dûr. The narrow upper way on which Sam stood leapt swiftly down by stair and steep path to meet the main road under the frowning walls close to the Door to the Tower Complex.

As he gazed at it suddenly Sam understood, almost with a shock,that this stronghold had been built not to keep enemies out of Mordor, but to keep them in.

It was indeed one of the works of Gondor Architectural Bureau long ago, an eastern outpost of the defences of Ithilien, made when, after the Last Alliance, Men of Westernesse kept watch on the evil industrial wasteland of Sauron where his creatures still lurked

[Grey_Wolf]

But as with Narchost and Carchost, the Towers of the Teeth, so here too the vigilance had failed, and treachery had yielded up the Tower to the Lord of the Ringwraiths, and now for long years it had been held by evil things. Since his return to Mordor, Sauron had found it useful; for he had few servants but many slaves of fear, and still its chief purpose as of old was to prevent escape from Mordor. Though if an enemy were so rash as to try to enter that land secretly, then it was also a last unsleeping guard against any that might pass the vigilance of Morgul and of Shelob.

Only too clearly Sam saw how hopeless it would be for him to creep down under those many-eyed walls and pass the watchful gate. And even if he did so, he could not go far on the guarded road beyond: not even the black shadows, lying deep where the red glow could not reach, would shield him long from the night-eyed orcs. But desperate as that road might be, his task was now far worse: not to avoid the gate and escape, but to enter it, alone.

[Grey_Wolf]

His thought turned to the Package, but there was no comfort there, only dread and danger. No sooner had he come in sight of Mount Doom, burning far away, than he was aware of a change in his burden. As it drew near the great furnaces where, in the deeps of time, it had been shaped and forged, the Package's power grew, and it became more fell, untameable save by some mighty will. As Sam stood there, even though the Package was not on him but hanging by its chain about his neck, he felt himself enlarged, as if he were robed in a huge distorted shadow of himself, a vast and ominous threat halted upon the walls of Mordor. He felt that he had from now on only two choices: to reject the Package, though it would torment him; or to claim it, and challenge the Power that sat in its dark hold beyond the valley of shadows. Already the Package tempted him, gnawing at his will and reason. Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dûr. And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit. He had only to open the Package and claim it for his own, and all this could be.

[Grey_Wolf]

In that hour of trial it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm; but also deep down in him lived still unconquered his plain hobbit-sense: he knew in the core of his heart that he was not large enough to bear such a burden, even if such visions were not a mere cheat to betray him. The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.

"And anyway all these notions are only a trick," he said to himself. "He'd spot me and cow me, before I could so much as shout out. He'd spot me, pretty quick, if I open the Package now, in Mordor. Well, all I can say is: things look as hopeless as a frost in spring. Just when being invisible would be really useful, I can't use the Package! And if ever I get any further, it's going to be nothing but a drag and a burden every step. So what's to be done?"

[Grey_Wolf]

He was not really in any doubt. He knew that he must go down to the gate and not linger any more.

With a shrug of his shoulders, as if to shake off the shadow and dismiss the phantoms, he began slowly to descend.

With each step he seemed to diminish. He had not gone far before he had shrunk again to a very small and frightened hobbit.

He was now closing in on the door to the complex, and he could now hear the loud cries and sounds of fighting unaided by the Package.

Just before he reached the door two ORCers came rushing out. They did not turn towards him. They were making for the main road; suddenly, two shots could be heard and the two ORCers fell to the ground before they could take another step.

Sam had not seen from where the shots had come from, but either the balconies or the shadows in the Tower doorway could house the shooters.

He went on hugging the wall beneath the balconies. He had no hope of climbing that thirty foot wall. He continued and reasoned that the Tower door was the only entrance to the Complex.

[Grey_Wolf]

He crept on; and as he went he wondered how many orcs lived in the Tower with Shagrat, and how many Gorbag had, and what they were quarrelling about, if that was what was happening. Shagrat's company had seemed to be about forty, and Gorbag's more than twice as large; but of course Shagrat's patrol had only been a part of his garrison.

Almost certainly they were quarrelling about the choice of music and the spoils. For a second Sam halted, for suddenly things seemed clear to him.

The Mithril Body Armour! Of course, Frodo was wearing it, and they would find it. And from what Sam had heard Gorbag would covet it. But the orders of the Dark Tower were at present Frodo's only protection, and if they were set aside, Frodo might be killed out of hand at any moment.

"Come on, you miserable sluggard!" Sam cried to himself. "Now for it!"

He drew Sting the soldering-iron. But just as he was about to pass under its great arch he felt a shock: as if he had run into some web like Shelob's, only invisible. He could see no obstacle, but something too strong for his will to overcome barred the way.

He looked about, and then within the shadow of the gate he saw the Two Watchers.

They were like great figures seated upon thrones. Each had three joined bodies, and three heads facing outward, and inward, and across the gateway. The heads had vulture-faces, and on their great knees were laid clawlike hands.

They seemed to be carved out of huge blocks of stone, and not only where they generating some kind of force field.

In their eyes shone red dots as of lasers. They knew an enemy. Visible or invisible none could pass unheeded. They would forbid his entry, or his escape.

[Grey_Wolf]

Hardening his will Sam thrust forward once again, and halted with a jerk, staggering as if from a blow upon his breast and head. Then greatly daring, because he could think of nothing else to do, answering a sudden thought that came to him, he drew slowly out Halogen Lamp of Galadriel and held it up.

It's bright light banished the shadows in the corridor.The monstrous Watchers sat there cold and still, revealed in all their hideous shape. For a moment Sam caught again the red glitter in the black stones of their eyes, the very malice of which made him quail; but slowly he felt their will waver and crumble into fear.

[Grey_Wolf]

He sprang past them; but even as he did so, thrusting the halogen lamp back into his bosom, he was aware, as plainly as if a bar of steel had snapped to behind him, that their vigilance was renewed and the forcefield closed behind him.

And from these hideous statues an alarm was sounded.

DWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED! DWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED! DWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED! DWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!

And as if in reply a single NANG! came from a signalling device far above.

"That's done it!" said Sam. "Now I've rung the front-door bell! Well, come on somebody!" he cried. "Tell Captain Shagrat that the great Elf-warrior has called, with his elf-weapon too!"

[Grey_Wolf]

There was no answer. Sam strode forward. Sting the Elven soldering-iron shone with a blue light in his hand. The inner courtyard lay in murky shadow, but he could see the finely-laid stonework covered in bodies.

Right at his feet lay two ORCers still holding their empy assault rifles. Huge bulletholes in their backs bore testemony to the deadly fight which had occured.

Beyond lay many more shapes. Some singly and some together, still grappling one another, dead in the very throes of stabbing, throttling, biting. The stones were slippery with dark blood.

Two ORCer symbols Sam noticed underneath the numbers 339 and 338. One was a Red Eye, the other a disfigured moon with a ghastly face. but he did not stop to look more closely.

Across the inner courtyard a double set of doors stood wide open, and a red light came through; a large ORCer lay dead on the threshold. Shot in the forehead.

Sam sprang over the body and went in; and then he peered about at a loss.

[Grey_Wolf]

A wide echoing corridor led back towards the mountainside. It was dimly lit by some still intermittently working flourescent tubes, but its distant end was lost in gloom.

Many doors and openings could be seen on this side and that; but it was empty save for two or three more bodies sprawling on the floor.

From what he had heard of the captains' talk Sam knew that, dead or alive, Frodo would most likely be found in the topmost penthouse, but he might search for a day before he found the way.

"It'll be near the back, I guess," Sam muttered."The whole Tower winds around sort of. But in these stick lights I should find my way."

[Grey_Wolf]

He advanced down the corridor but slowly now, each step more reluctant. Terror was beginning to grip him again.

There was no sound save the rap of his feet, which seemed to grow to an echoing noise, like the slapping of great hands upon the clinker laid floor.

The dead bodies: the emptiness; the dank black walls that in the faint sticklight seemed to drip with blood; the fear of sudden death lurking in doorway or shadow.

And behind all his mind the waiting watchful malice at the Door: it was almost more than he could screw himself to face. He would have welcomed a fight-with not too many enemies at a time - rather than this hideous brooding uncertainty. He forced himself to think of Frodo, lying bound or in pain or dead somewhere in this dreadful place. He went on.

[Grey_Wolf]

He had passed into the murky darkness at the other end of the corridor near an arched doorway, just above the Entrance, as he rightly guessed, when there came from high above a dreadful choking shriek. He stopped short. Then he heard feet coming. Someone was running in great haste down an echoing stairway overhead.

His will was too weak and slow to restrain his hand. It dragged at the chain and clutched the Package, But Sam did not open it; for even as he clasped it to his breast, an ORCer came clattering down.

Leaping out of a dark opening at the right, it ran towards him. It was no more than six paces from him when, lifting its head, it saw him; and Sam could hear its gasping breath and see the glare in its bloodshot eyes.

It stopped short aghast. For what it saw was not a small frightened hobbit trying to hold a steady sword: it saw a great silent shape, cloaked in a grey shadow, looming against the wavering light behind; in one hand it held a weapon, the very light of which was a bitter pain, the other was clutched at its breast, but held concealed some nameless menace of power and doom.

[Grey_Wolf]

For a moment the orc crouched, and then with a hideous yelp of fear it turned and fled back as it had come. Never was any dog more heartened when its enemy turned tail than Sam at this unexpected flight. With a shout he gave chase.
"Yes! The Elf-warrior is loose!" he cried. "I'm coming. Just you show me the way up, or I'll skin you!"

But the orc was in its own haunts, nimble and well-fed. Sam was a stranger, hungry and weary. The stairs were high and steep and winding. Sam's breath began to come in gasps. The orc had soon passed out of sight, and now only faintly could be heard the slapping of its feet as it went on and up. Every now and again it gave a yell, and the echo ran along the walls. But slowly all sound of it died away.

Sam plodded on. He felt that he was on the right road, and his spirits had risen a good deal. He thrust the Package away and tightened his belt. "Well, well!" he said. "If only they all take such a dislike to me and my Sting the soldering-iron, this may turn out better than I hoped. And anyway it looks as if Shagrat, Gorbag, and company have done nearly all my job for me. Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there's nobody left alive in the place!"

[Grey_Wolf]

And with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stone wall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? "Frodo, Frodo! Master!" he cried half sobbing. "If they've killed you, what shall I do? Well, I'm coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must."

Up, up he went. It was dark save for an occasional still working sticklight flashed off and on, or beside some opening that led into the higher levels of the Tower. Sam tried to count the steps, but after two hundred he lost his reckoning. He was moving quietly now: for he thought that he could hear the sound of voices talking, still some way above. More than one rat remained alive, it seemed.

All at once, when he felt that he could pump out no more breath, nor force his knees to bend again, the stair ended. He stood still. The voices were now loud and near. Sam peered about.

[Grey_Wolf]

He had climbed right up to the Penthouse floor of the Tower Complex; there it ended up in a sort of built-in upper courtyard, which was covered in by a dome. Low doors faced east and west.

Eastward, through the panorama window, Sam could see the plain of Mordor vast and dark below, and the burning mountain far away.

A fresh turmoil was surging in its deep wells, and the rivers of fire blazed so fiercely that even at this distance of many miles the light of them lit the tower-top with a red glare.

Westward the view was blocked by the base of the great turret that stood at the back of this upper court and reared its horn high above the crest of the encircling hills. Light gleamed in a window-slit. Its door was not ten yards from where Sam stood. It was open but dark, and from just within its shadow the voices came.

[Grey_Wolf]

At first Sam did not listen; he took a pace out of the eastward door and looked about. At once he saw that up here the fighting had been fiercest.

ORCers lay everywhere in contorted positions, riddled with bullets, some with their arms and heads blown off.

The place stank of death. A snarl followed by a blow and a cry sent him darting back into hiding. An orc-voice rose in anger, and he knew it again at once, harsh, brutal, cold. It was Shagrat speaking, Captain of the Tower.